Comfort
by LittleRedHatter
Summary: John needs comfort after seeing the great houd of Baskerville, and Sherlock gives him it in a surprising way


**Comfort**

"John, it's okay, it's alright now."

"NOW IT'S NOT! It is _not_ okay!"

I had never seen John so scared, so angry, so out of control. It frightened me. He was always calm, held himself back, always in control. But he wasn't as I watched him. He breathed rapidly and shallow, I could practically see his heart pounding away in his chest. He was scared stiff by what he had seen, even if it wasn't real.

"Okay John, you need to calm down," I soothed.

"NO! I just…ARGH!" John yelled. He was falling apart right in front me. I needed to comfort him somehow, I just didn't know how. _Feelings_ isn't something I know a great deal of, they'd become even more confusing since I had met John. My stomach doing strange things every time he looked into my eyes, the hate I felt for all of the women he went out with, the urge to hug him after he comes home from a long day at work burning in body, the need for him to be touching me, having his lips on mine, raging in every fibre in my body, the strange feeling I get when he walks around in nothing but his bathrobe…

I knew what was happening, I just couldn't believe it. I had fallen in love with John Watson, who happened to be the straightest person I knew. I've tried to ignore it as best as I could, but the wretched feelings just won't go away. They leave with a pain, a pain of longing and need of something I could never have. And that something clearly needed my comfort.

"I saw it, I saw the hound. The HOUND SHERLOCK!" John cried out. His hands were gripping his hair. He was in distress, and I stood them just watching him, contemplating what to do. When I didn't respond John rambled on some more. "It was huge and terrifying. Its bright red eyes stared into my very soul. It snarled at me, showing its teeth. They were horrible Sherlock, _it_ was horrible. Why are you just standing there? HELP ME! I'M FREAKING OUT SHERLOCK!"

I did as he told, and comforted him the only way I could. It was a mistake as soon as I did it. I pulled him towards me, cupping his face with my face and kissed him. It was a long slow kiss. As soon as I realised what I was doing I pushed myself away from him, but it was too late, the damage had been done. I clasped my hands over my mouth and gasped. John stood there motionless, his face expressionless. For a moment I just stood the, my hands over my mouth, just staring at him, thinking about what to do and what I had done. I watched him, desperate to read his mind, desperate for him to do something other than just stand there.

"John I-I don't know what happened. I'm sorry," I said. John still didn't do anything. We just stared at each other, unblinking, unmoving. And then John did something I didn't expect. He grabbed me by the edge of my coat and yanked me towards him, pressing his lips hard on mine. His arms wrapped around me, my arms wrapped around him. I pressed myself against him. We deepened the kiss, becoming more passionate and heavy with every move we made. We were forced to lean away, gasping for breath.

"I'd been waiting for you to do that," John chuckled. I frowned in confusion.

"I don't understand," I replied. I could see the blood rushing up to John's cheeks and he looked up to hide his face.

"When I first met you," he kicked at the ground, "I had a little crush on you."

"A crush?" I blinked. How blind could I be? I was the world's greatest detective, and I couldn't even deduce that the man I loved, loved me back.

"Yeah. I just didn't think you know, you said you were married to your work and you don't seem like the kind to, you know…" John avoided looking up at me. I lifted his chin, forcing to look me in the eyes.

"Just because I divorce myself from _feelings_, doesn't mean I don't _feel_ them," I smiled, "I can't always control how I feel, especially if that feeling is strong."

"Really?" John smiled, joy sparkling in his eyes. I chuckled and kissed him again. I hoped this wasn't the effect the drug, that he really did love me. I enjoyed the moment nonetheless, cherishing it in case it wasn't real. We leaned back from each other. A frown had formed on his face, like he was thinking.

"You look troubled," I said.

"It's just…I saw the hound," John shook his head, taking a step away from me and running a hand through his hair, "It was there, right in front of me. Surely you saw it too. I was wrong, I was so wrong."

"No John, you were right," I said. He looked up at me in surprise.

"I was right? How the hell am I right?" he asked.

"Was it huge?"

"Yeah."

"Black fur?"

"Yes."

"Red eyes?"

"Yes."

"Glowing?"

"Yep."

"No."

"No?"

"No, I made that bit up. We've been drugged, we have all been drugged."

I urged him to follow me, his hand brushing against mine and making me smile. I had him now, he was mine, I gave him the comfort he deserved.


End file.
